You Just Keep On Drinking
by Author Gal
Summary: Some things are worse than death, like being alone. A series of one shots set three days after the last battle.
1. Nothing's Pure

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter one: Nothing's Pure.

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor... Thirteen green bottles..._

The moon is casting its light through the glass. Shadows, flickers of light are dancing on the wall, like figures from a story. Condemning me.

_Nothing's pure..._

It wasn't meant to be me who was left, although they would have had it no other way. He gave his life defending mine, protecting me, trying not to scream.

_Fourteen green bottles..._

Having someone die in your arms is not the beautiful and touching scene that Pavarti and Lavender used to swoon over. It's sloppy and painful and there is nothing you can do. Helplessness, that's all it is. There were no touching last words, or gentle healing tears.

He was broken. I held his body together. I bathed in his blood, in his vomit. And I watched pain control his entire being. And in his dying moments I held him together.

_So you just keep on drinking and you try to forget..._

He tried to talk to me. Between the screams and the tears, he did try to talk. Clouded, blue eyes trying to focus on me. But how do you focus when you back is severed in two? More blood, so much of his blood.

_She laughs too easily and cries too hard..._

I cried. As he died, when he needed someone to stay steady for him, I cried. He had always needed me to remain calm for him, yet I deserted him when he needed me most. He hated to watch me cry. It scared him, things were at their worst, their bleakest, when I cried. And I scared him again, I could see it in his eyes. They were filled with panic. His breathing became worse, I could hear his chest bubbling, spewing forth, leaking out onto my skirt.

_Fifteen green bottles..._

And when he died, I couldn't look away. I had to stare at the mutilated corpse that had been someone who I loved. Now he was gone, and I was alone.

I was scared.

I am scared.

They took his body from me. While I screamed in agony from his loss, they stole his body. They made it dance in the air, like a marionette, his body limp, his head lolling from side to side as they made it dance in the air, taunting us who were left.

Do they have no shame? Couldn't they leave him alone? Did they have to leave me on my own?

The-Boy-who-Lived saw the mockery they made of his dead friend. He became furious. He killed. He died.

I was left alone again.

_Sixteen green bottles..._

There was a full moon that night. It reminded him of the Werewolf, it hurt him more, I think. The injustice of Moony's departure, killed by those on the same side, because one in every 28 days the sun had the opportunity to shine on the moon in full.

It's very quick, silver is. Though painful. Once strapped down, he was given time to smile quickly at The-Boy-who-was-Living, scream, then die.

_She wrote in red on her bedroom walls._

When I was little, I used red to symbolize anger, rage, pain and terror.

Now I use green.

Perhaps if there had been no moon that night. They wouldn't have seen me hiding from fear. Then he would not have seen them rush towards me, and give his life for mine, dying in agony.

Then green eyes wouldn't have seen the twisting figure moving, dead, in the air. A steady hand and a piercing cry would not have caused the destruction of the greatest wizard in the world. Had there been no moon, green eyes would not have closed forever, leaving me drinking alone.

_Seventeen green bottles..._

Had the moon not existed, the Werewolf would have been with us. Had the moon not existed, Prongs and the Flower would still be with us. Had the moon not existed, green eyes would still sparkle in delight at the thought of freedom, carelessness. Had the moon not existed, blue eyes would still captivate mine, clear and painless.

Had the moon not existed, I wouldn't be drinking alone. I wouldn't be alone.

Nothing's pure.

* * *

**A/N: This story is a series of short stories about those who are left behind. None of the chapters are related to any others, and the outcome is always different. In some, they win, in other's, they lose. In this one, it was Hermione (for those who didn't get that, I'm sorry my writing was so bad!) and she was the only one left behind. In the next chapter, it will be someone else, and Hermione will have died. **

**The songs are taken from two Whitlam's songs, "She Cries to Easily" and "Kate Kelly".**


	2. Red or Green?

You Just Keep on Drinking:

__

Chapter two: Red or Green.

Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…

It was him or me. That was everything I knew, everything I had been told. I believed them when they said that it was him or me.

But not them. They were never part of the bargain. Red eyes or green ones. Red or green, red or green. They never told me that freckles or bushy hair was involved in the deal.

I was to decide my own fate. No one told me that I was to decide theirs.

Fourteen green bottles…

I saw them die. It was a scene out of a story, a story that we weren't meant to be in. The heroine was meant to be tall and raven-haired, not short with bushy hair. The hero should have been tall and strong, not gangly and clumsy.

They are … they _were_ my best friends. But when that curse flew towards them, I stood stock still, detached. All I could think of was 'it wasn't meant to be them'.

And I didn't move.

There's a grief that can't be spoken.

He knew they were going to die. That's why he kissed her in the middle of a battle. She knew they were going to die. That's why she kissed him back. And as red eyes screamed, and a curse flew towards them, he wrapped her in his arms to protect her, standing taller than I have ever seen him.

There was no fear.

Except for mine.

Red and Green.

They screamed in agony. I screamed in fear. They bled onto the damp grass, my heart bled to be alone.

Their eyes locked on mine. They forgave me. How could they forgive me? I brought them here, I left them, and I decided their fate.

While they writhed in agony, they forgave me. While they forgave me, I writhed in agony.

Fifteen green bottles…

Then it was my turn to face him. I don't know what I felt then, but it wasn't rage, or fear. Perhaps it was just… numbness? Emptiness perhaps. Whatever it was, the feeling consumed me until all that existed of me was a great dark void. Slowly I drew my wand and pointed it at him, but he hadn't finished taunting me yet.

Red or Green?

Carelessly, almost lazily, he flicked his wand in another's direction. Her direction. This time, however, I was given no absolution. No forgiving eyes or slight smiles. She just widened her eyes slightly, then died.

There's a pain goes on and on…

I was left alone. Around me was the unseeing figures of my friends, my family, those that loved me no matter who I was or what risk I put them in. I was left alone.

Death is not glorious. If there is one legacy that I can leave behind, let it be that. _Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, _that is what I used to believe. But there is no glory, and all death does is cause more pain to those you love, to those you leave.

I want to tell you that in order to avenge the death of my friends, I stood tall and destroyed the one who killed them. I want you to love me and think of me as a hero, one to record and sing tales about in years to come. Perhaps they will sing tales of me, though if they are songs about heroism, then the tales lie. I did not kill him to avenge my friends, or to vent my pent-up rage.

I killed him because I didn't know what else to do.

Sixteen green bottles…

All my life I had been told that one of us would live. Him or me. Red eyes or green. But they never told me what I was to do once he was dead. They never explained to me how I was to pick up my life and carry on without anyone to stand by me. I had served my purpose, what was I to do now? No one needed me any more.

I was a used-up superhero.

But this superhero does not revel in the knowledge that 'justice had been served'. This hero wants to die. This hero prays every night that it was all a dream, that tomorrow he will wake up and be given the chance to fight again. That he will be given the chance to die again.

Seventeen green bottles…

I don't want to live anymore. Not alone. The moon is shining on me now, and sometimes I swear I can see her face in it, smiling at me, waiting for me.

But red eyes won't let me join her just yet.

_Red or green?_

_

* * *

_

**A/N:**Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori: It is sweet and glorius to die for one's country.

Thanks to those who reviewed. It made my day. Lyrics taken from Les Mis "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables."


	3. Close your eyes

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

_Chapter Three_: Close your Eyes.

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor... Thirteen green bottles..._

When my brothers turned my teddy bear into a spider, the first thing I did was to close my eyes. Because I believed, in my naivete, that what I couldn't see didn't exist, and what didn't exist couldn't hurt me.

Some things never change.

The spider bit me. I never told anyone that part of the story. If you looked up my hospital records at St. Mungo's, you would see that I have been in hospital twice: once for my birth, and the second time to recover from a poisonous bit from a teddy bear. Because that's what the spider truly was, a teddy bear, no matter how it had been changed or how it was presented.

And she was just a girl, no matter how she came across. I think that is why we ended up so close, because I knew that no matter how she appeared, behind the books and multi-syllable words was just a girl. Like the bear.

There are some things that a girl shouldn't see, shouldn't feel. Shouldn't know.

_Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth..._

I loved her. I have loved her since second year, when she lay so still, barely breathing. There was a time when I am sure she loved me back, but what appeal does a best friend have when she could have a repentant enemy? She believed in giving him a second chance.

Where was mine?

A lighting scar could not have hurt more than the agony she put me through, yet somehow a boy with the lighting scar was the only one to notice.

He was a good friend. The best I could ever have, and much more than I deserved. There were times when I knew he was the only one who was going to pull me through the dark times.

Yet he too believed in second chances.

_Fourteen green bottles..._

He betrayed them, of course. And he laughed when he told her, laugh as she cried when she realised that she was wrong. Laughed as he told her how everything she had done for him was pointless. Laughed when he told her I had been right. He laughed as he mercilessly killed her.

Once again I closed my eyes, but this time I forgot to block my ears.

_Fifteen green bottles..._

I killed the ferret, for her. It was something I should have done long ago, but for her sake, I had let him live.

Perhaps for her sake I should have killed him sooner.

_Close you eyes, your dreams will be sweet..._

Maybe, just maybe, if I had lost only the two of them, I would not be sitting here, drinking on my own. Perhaps I could have pulled through if my family had still been around to pick me up and dust me off after I fell. But they died too. All of them, even Percy was killed heroically defending our little sister. And I was left alive, to spend my last few days in hiding, drinking and waiting for Voldemort to find and kill me.

_Sixteen green bottles..._

I think it will be green eyes that will haunt me for my last few days, the look of hopelessness and failure in his eyes as he realised that he was about to die. In the second before that curse hit him, when he realised that Voldemort had won, and he was going to lose.

What can prepare a boy for that? What training could have prepared my best friend for the knowledge that the entire wizarding world was about to be destroyed, and it was entirely his fault? The he, our only hope, had lost? That look will haunt me all my life.

Somehow I managed to escape, I don't know how. But I sat, hidden amongst the trees, waiting for someone else to flee the building and come with me, but no one did. So I ran alone, like the coward I am.

_Seventeen green bottles..._

I don't know how long I have left until he finds me. It could be a few days, or he could be sitting outside now watching me drink myself into a stupor. I no longer care. But here I sit, on a ripped up couch, staring outside through the window at the moon, just watching and waiting.

_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams..._

I close my eyes, and in my mind I can see them all waving and smiling at me. She is there, and she tells me that she never loved anyone but me. He's there too, but this time he didn't fail, and his green eyes are glowing with joy and pride. I'm a hero now, see how they pick me up and carry me around, calling "Weasley is our King!" I'm the hero this time.

_Close your eyes._

* * *

**A/N: Thank you again to all those who sent me such wonderful reviews, they truly make my day. I hope I can keep your support. **

**Thanks to Earelwen, Short-Stuff9, Devilishly Dreamy, Elwen Armir (twice!), Just Kate, Kay51, ZoeBaby and Daunting Darkness. **

**The songs in this chapter come from The Phantom of the Opera "Music of the Night" and the Whitlam's "Kate Kelly". **


	4. All Lies and Jest

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter 4: All Lies and Jest

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor... Thirteen green bottles..._

In one's life, mistakes are inevitable. It is part of nature and to deny it would be ludicrous. However, I have always believed that we are born with the ability to control the quality and quantity of the mistakes we make. This ability is sometimes ignored when one is placed out of one's league, or faced with one's greatest fear.

That is why I failed.

Failed miserably, if I am forced to be perfectly honest. Not in the common use of the word, I triumphed over my adversaries many times, but my failure came from my inability to protect those that meant the most to me, those who continued to love me before, during and after my rebellion.

_When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy in the company of strangers..._

Take my parents as an example of my complete failure. In Muggle mythology, there is a set of rules and laws known as the Ten Commandments. Law number five is 'Honor thy father and mother'.

And this is where I began my most spectacular failure. Not only did I treat my parents with contempt and arrogance, but I also failed to protect them when it was my time to do so.

But then I failed to protect everyone I love, so why single them out? Why remember their sorrowful looks over everyone else's?

_Fourteen green bottles..._

Every man has his weakness, a thing or an object that has the ability to bring a man to his knees. For some, it is a fear, like spiders or the dark. For other's, it is love, for a woman or their family. And yet for other's still it is a time, the past, the present or the future.

My greatest fear was chaos: for my structured, orderly world to collapse in mayhem and anarchy around me.

The return of Voldemort promised nothing other than fear, pain and disarray. Things I couldn't control, things that were bigger than my overdeveloped sense of self-importance.

In my defense, though I am completely aware of how little I deserve it, I truly believed the Minister and his lies. Had I even contemplated that his smooth explanations were false, that he was telling clever inventions to me, I would have walked my ground more carefully.

They say that you are who your company is, and he was my permanent company, it was he who fed my mind. Ron believed in Harry and followed him to his death, because Harry was his friend and Harry wouldn't lie. I was with the Ministry constantly, and did not have the wisdom of my father in order to distinguish fact from fiction.

_I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises. All lies and jest..._

And so, for eighteen long months I openly defied my family and was the personal lackey of Fudge.

But then Death Eaters killed the one person who had keep her faith in me, and my eyes were unveiled. Only someone truly evil could, and would, kill my mother and outraged I was determine to stop it.

_Fifteen green bottles..._

It took them a long time for them to forgive what I had done, and even longer for me to forgive myself. Once more I was confronted with the possibility of chaos, but this time I faced it, rather than run away.

And it did not help at all.

_And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down and cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame..._

I tried to apologise to Penelope for everything I had done to her, but her hollow eyes refused to give relief, though her lips promised acquittance. As I left her, a gold band securely placed on her finger, I prayed that whoever that man was, he would love her just as I did.

_Sixteen green bottles..._

Voldemort was not satisfied with the murder of my mother, we Weasley's had defied him and for that we would pay. And so, one by one, he killed my family. Every night at dinner we would, subconsciously, count the heads around the table, just to make sure everyone was still there. One by one, the hands on the clock moved to 'Mortal Peril', and then the hand would fall off the clock. One by one we fell.

_Seventeen green bottles..._

I was unable to save a single person I loved. There are no more red tufts of hair to welcome me, no more smoky brown eyes staring shyly up at me in the moonlight. No one left to love.

All lies and jest.

* * *

**A/N: A slightly odd character to choose, but my favorite. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and especially to ZoeBaby and ArionHalf-Blood** **who were kind enough to give me some criticism about my writing. **

**The snippets of song were taken from Simon and Garfunkle's "The Boxer". **


	5. Torch the Moon

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter Five: Torch the Moon

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…_

Patterns. Life is made up of them, as is history. There are patterns in wars, patterns in the growth of a flower, patterns in my life.

My entire life is made up of patterns. I suspect that is why I passed Divination at school, my life was so regular I could predict what would happen, and when. My life revolved around a period of twenty-eight days, the moon and the sun.

_Torch the moon…_

It has always been my greatest fear. People panic about work or assignments: "I've only got three days left!" but this was worse. I too have this mental countdown, however on the assigned day I can't just hand in my problem and walk away, relieved. Instead, the countdown starts again, the pattern in refreshed.

But when they were around, the countdown was different. I was still wary, it is true, but I no longer felt an uncontrollable panic every time the night drew close. Instead I would feel caution, and also loved. Loved because my friends risked everything to spend this one night with me, keeping my sane.

But when the time can to repay them, I was howling at the moon.

_Fourteen green bottles…_

On that one night, my life was changed forever. All of them, every single person I depended on, were gone. And as I read the paper, then scrounged the ruins, I found that I was left alone.

I didn't even try to justify what had happened. It had been my fault. I should have been there when they needed me. If I hadn't have received the bite, they would not have died.

But I wouldn't let myself die. It was too easy. Instead I fought to live, and forced myself to remember.

_From the moment of my birth to the instant of my death, there are patterns I must follow…_

For some reason, unknown to any man, fortune smiled upon me again, and I was given another reason to live in him. The offspring of those I loved dearest, the child of those I had failed.

Someone who needed me.

For the first time in many years, I wanted to live. I had someone who wanted me to live. For years I fought for him, I fought to help him fight, I fought to hide his only family, and I fought against him when his only family died.

_Fifteen green bottles…_

And the patterns of my life came back, and their child fought against the world most powerful wizard whilst I was staring at the moon with longing.

Again, someone I loved had to fight without me. Someone who had given everything for me put their life on the line and there was nothing I could do about it. And the next day, as I read the papers, and scrounged the ruins, I found that once again I was left alone.

He isn't dead. No, there are worse things than that. He defeated Voldemort, but now he has to fight the prison of his own mind. They say he will never recover, they have put him in the room next to the Longbottoms, all three of them. Ironic.

_And the pattern never alters…_

And so, once again I find myself alone. There is no one left to need me now, for neither Ron or Hermione made it from that battle alive. Ron died protecting Draco. Enemies to the last, yet Ron gave himself as a sacrifice for the person he despised. A true hero. Draco, in return, protected Hermione with his life, a tribute to Ron's sacrifice. But neither was strong enough to withstand Voldemort.

They were just kids.

_Sixteen green bottles…_

There are three days in my life that I will never forget. The first was the day that I was became a monster, the day that I sealed the fate of all my friends. The next day was when Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs because Alone, Traitor, Convicted and Betrayed. The third day was the time that I was unable to protect the person who needed me the most.

And every single time, it was all my fault.

_Seventeen green bottles…_

Sometimes, in the dead of night, I lie on my bed and stare out the window, and wonder what would have happened if the moon never existed. If I had never received the bite. Padfoot would never have been convinced that I was the traitor. Wormtail would not have been made secret keeper, and he would have been unable to betray them. Prongs and the Flower would still be with us, and the four of us would have defeated Voldemort together. Their child would not have been raised alone, and he would not have needed to fight on behalf of a monster who was never there to help him or his parents.

Torch the moon

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and especially to Mirficus for giving me some wonderful suggestions. I will try to give it a go, thank you. And keep an eye out for a story that I am posting. It will be up in the next day or two. **

**The songs from this chapter were taken from The Whitlams' "Torch the Moon" and Simon and Garfunkle's "Patterns". **


	6. Brothers in Arms

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter Six: Brothers in Arms

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…_

There was never any doubt in our minds; one of us had to survive. It was our unspoken agreement, one of us had to remain behind to take care of everything, Mum, the family and our friends.

But why did it have to be me?

It was so much easier before the battle, we were the clowns. The comics. The people they relied on when the times were getting tough, the people needed to make them laugh. And we did our job well, we made them laugh with our double act.

Somehow, a single act is never quite as funny.

_Fourteen green bottles…_

We had been separated, he had gone for direct attack whilst I had gone for subtlety over strength. It was the best plan, he was much stronger than I was, we knew that his group would be targeted more. But I kept him in my sight the entire time, and he kept me in his. I wasn't going to let him die without me there. I wasn't going to let him die.

I watched us grow further and further apart during the battle, I watched as Voldemort attacked his group. I couldn't leave him. We're twins, we lived together, dammit we would die together!

I left my brothers, they knew why. I couldn't help it, I wouldn't let him die. And so I ran towards him, cursing everyone in my way. On my own.

_I've watched all your suffering, as the battles raged higher…_

I reached him. Before he died, I managed to reach him. He was screaming, screaming in agony. He was writhing on the ground, he wouldn't stop, why won't he stop? I was shaking him, crying. Wake up, why won't you wake up? You have to stop screaming! But he wouldn't stop. He was terrified, he kept looking at me, screaming in torment and writhing.

And he kept staring at me, his eyes filled with horror, pleading for me to make it stop.

That was how it always worked between us. There was never a burden that, together, we couldn't carry. There was never anything the two of us couldn't do together. All the pranks, the defiance, the plans… these were things that no one person could do alone. I played pranks on people because I knew, at the end of the day, he would be beside me, receiving the same punishment as I did. Together, we would be all right.

_Brothers-in-Arms…_

There was one day that we were separated against our will. It was in second year and McGonagall had grown tired of us, so she sent me to clean basin and sentenced him to polish floors. It was the worst two hours of my life.

Not because we were separate, contrary to popular belief we did like to be alone sometimes, but because it wasn't by choice. I didn't choose to be alone, I know he didn't either. The entire time all I could wonder was 'does he need me?' If it had been by choice, he would have been able to return on his own, when he wanted me. When he couldn't carry it by himself.

I can't carry it anymore.

_Fifteen green bottles…_

It's hard to know he is gone, to have a constant knowledge that you are on your own forever. But it's worse when you forget. When I open my mouth and say something, and then wait for him to finish my sentence. I keep wondering where he has gone to on his own, and every time the question comes back; 'does he need me?' And then I remember.

_Sixteen green bottles…_

I tried to kill Voldemort. When my brother was beseeching me to make the pain go away, I tried to kill the one who was causing it. I couldn't, and so I screamed and begged and pleaded and offered my life for his. I swore to do anything, but he had to stop the pain. He was screaming, please stop the screaming! But he wouldn't, no matter what I offered him he wouldn't stop laughing as my brother was screaming and I just want to make it stop… so I did.

_Let me bid you farewell, every man has to die…_

I killed him. I killed my brother. I had to, it was the only way to make the torture stop. I didn't want to, but what else could I do? Leave him there to suffer, force him to carry a burden of pain that I couldn't share with him? He was crying, he was crying dammit! My brother didn't cry. He was sobbing, he wanted it to end. I had to stop it.

He stared at me as I killed him. He knew what I was doing, he knew why. He would have done the same for me. It was the only way. The only way to share his burden, the only way to help my brother.

_Seventeen green bottles…_

They say I murdered him, they have locked me away until the day I die. Is this what we fought for? Is this what he died for? For the world to decide our sacrifice didn't matter anymore, that his death didn't matter anymore. That I didn't matter anymore?

I look out my prison window. There is only half a moon.

_Brothers-in-Arms._

**A/N:** Thanks to short-stuff9, who sent me a lovely review! My new story "We Brethren Are" is up, so feel free to have a look, and please review both my stories. Thank you.


	7. Who's Going to Save Me?

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter Seven: Who's Going to Save Me? 

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…_

I was always the better man, I was always better than him. He yelled at his friends and loved ones, he rejected their advice and flew in danger without caution or head. When he broke, I stood tall.

And when I made my choice, I made it alone. No one I loved died because of me.

_Fourteen green bottles…_

But then, he was never my enemy. He was 'the' enemy, but never the one I despised. I had no reason to hate him. Not, it was never him.

But it was his idiotic best friend that I loathed. His sidekick was the one who stood against everything that I believed in, everything that I upheld. He was a pureblood who stood against the Dark Lord, he was poor when I was rich, and he was clumsy when I was stable. Where as I was the leader of the gang, he was the one who followed. When I was collected he was rash, he was forgiving when I was not, and he was happy when I was cold. And when I lost, he won. He was my antithesis.

_Who's going to save me?_

Like Potter, I had my followers. Unlike Potter, I refused to take them with me on my path. What I did, I did alone.

She was angry when I told her what I had chosen, she flew into a rage, throwing things at me from across the common room. For so long she had pleaded for me to remain neutral. She used every cliché in the book; "you're not your father!"; "do it for me, please!" Until finally she lost is and screamed at me, "There's a reason it's called evil, you know!" She had tears in her eyes, she was crying. I didn't want to hurt her, she was the only one who cared. I could see her hopes die in her eyes. She was a Slytherin and ambitious, but she was never evil, and her ambitions to prevent me from that road failed.

After that night she only tried once more to convince me to come back. I laughed in her face. Then I received the Dark Mark.

_Fifteen green bottles…_

She would watch me from a distance. And I found that I missed her, always beside me, annoying me with her continuous chatter and her efforts to impress me. She held me back when I needed someone to, she kept me sane when I felt I couldn't cope anymore. She gave me something steady in my ever-changing world.

It was her that I relied on the most. So I refused to drag her down with me.

_My gut is wrenched out, it is crunched up and broken…_

And she fought against me and she died and I couldn't stop from breaking. Why did they kill her, why did she join with Potter? He couldn't just lead his own friends to their deaths, he had to lead mine as well.

But it wasn't just her that fought on Potter's side, he also went with Potter. But unlike her, he continued to talk to me, laugh with me, fight with me. Nothing changed between us, except now we knew which path we had chosen.

I caught them once, in the common room. She was tucked under his arm, her head in his chest. She was crying, she was crying because of what I had become. And he was holding her, telling her that it would be all right in the end. He saw me, hiding in the corner and silently he asked me if I would ever be okay. They expected me to change sides, they still hoped for a miracle. But they didn't understand, I had chosen this. For myself, this was what I wanted. I had designated my path.

You don't say 'no' to the Dark Lord.

_Sixteen green bottles…_

They died, and I lived because of my enemy's weakness. Even in combat, when his life was in mortal peril, Weasley couldn't bring himself to kill me. He had his wand pointed at me, I was disarmed and broken. And all he did was stare at me, then send me into a body bind. He leaned closer, and told me that he was giving me a second chance. Antithesis.

But I never chose to live. Not alone.

_A life that is led is no more than a token…_

They're noble, aren't they? Noble Potter and Weasley, letting the 'evil' one live. Aren't they kind, aren't they pure? And everyone respects them, and I'm meant to be grateful. But where was the press when Weasel paid me a visit, and left me a 'gift'? So kind of him, so noble.

It was the scarf she wore on that night, covered in blood.

_Seventeen green bottles…_

They vouched for me, said that I hadn't deserved Azkaban. So now I do 'community service' so they can see me humiliated and disgraced. And everyone stares at me, they point and whisper in shock. And when I fall, everyone laughs and there is no hand to help me back up again. I lie there, broken, ready to die. Because this is more than I can bare alone.

Did you know that blood reflects in the moonlight?

Who's going to save me?

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Earelwen, short-stuff9 and Eveningshade who reviewed, and to Lilybee2003, Scholar, Black-rose23, Flyaway dove and Kendra is Cheese, who reviewed "We Brethren Are". The song comes from Midnight Oil's "Blue Sky Mine". I do not own it or Harry Potter. **


	8. Think of Me

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter Eight: Think of Me

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…_

It's cold in here. Strange I should never notice before. I can't feel my toes anymore, and my nose is blue. I should put the fire on, but I don't want to warm up. I match, cold inside and outside.

I have no reason to be warm anymore. Everything I cared for has been taken away from me and I am left here all on my own. Not that it matters anymore.

_Fourteen green bottles…_

He used to light the fireplace for me every evening after he came back. He would find me freezing on the couch, and after rolling his eyes he would light the fire and then scold me and tell me how stupid I was. Even during summer I would cast a cooling charm on the room, so he could light the fire for me. It was his way of showing he cared.

And now I wonder where he is, I wonder what has become of his soul. Do you think he can see me? Do you think he can see what I have become, what his leaving has done to me? Would he feel remorse, knowing that he has left me on my own, in a cold room with no fire?

Does he remember me?

_Think of me…_

Everyone has a role to play, some bigger than others. The Wonder Boy had the most important role of them all, whereas other people had slightly less significant roles. For some it was to create charms, others to use them. Some people's role was to fight for light, others it was to fight for darkness. My role was small, I simply let him light the fire.

I gave him someone to care for, and someone to hate. When the mask he wore was slipping, he would seek me out and I would let him yell at me, cry on my shoulder or simply break things. And then I would repair what was broken, and help him put the mask back on and we would survive for a little while longer.

_I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to…_

He fussed over me. He never let anyone see it, but he did. When I was sick he wouldn't let me go to see the medi-witch, or when we were younger, the infirmary. Instead he would tuck me up and care for me himself, scolding me the entire duration of my recuperation. When we were young I had my heart broken by someone from a different house, and rather than yell at me for loving an enemy, he let me cry my heart out on his shoulder. And then, after hexing the boy in oblivion, he took special care of me, treating me as if I was his only equal. And I loved him for it.

But he is gone now, and I don't know what I am meant to do. I need him to need me, I don't know who else to fall on. I isolated myself from everyone else for him, believing he would always be here.

But now he isn't.

_Fifteen green bottles…_

He went to fight. It was the last time he would leave me, he promised. I tried to be good, I didn't beg to come with him or plead that he stay with me. He had gone to fight in a battle and I didn't even know which side he was going to fight for. I don't think even he knew.

And it's been three days.

_Sixteen green bottles…_

My fingers are blue. I'm having problems gripping my wand, they are so sore. But he will be home soon. Three days isn't that long, is it? He is probably just celebrating with his friends.

Why isn't he home? He needs to come home, I need to help him.

_All that's left of yesterday…_

I'll have to make another batch of soup, the last one has gone off and I will have to throw is out. He will chide me when he gets home, he hates it when I am wasteful. We have so little money as it is. But that is to be expected when you live hiding from both good and evil. For three years we have lived here, together, scrimping and saving. Three years and three days.

_Seventeen green bottles…_

It's been three days. Three days since the final battle and he hasn't come home yet. I need him to come home, I'm so scared of being alone. It's so cold, my limbs are numb and blue. It's growing darker, yet the moon is shining through the cracks in the walls and the roof, its light landing on everything that reminds me of him. It's taunting me, I know it is. I wonder if it is shining on him too? His face always looked beautiful in the moonlight.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing…?_

No one knows where we are, no one knows where I am. Who will tell me if I lost him? Who will tell me what side he fought for in the last few moments? Who will tell me which side won? Who will need me now that he's gone?

I don't know how to light a fire.

_Think of me._

**

* * *

A/N: Thank to for revie****wing. The songs are from The Phantom of the Opera's "Think of me" and Evanesance's "Hello". I tried to avoid using recent songs, but there we go. **

**A shameless plug on my behalf: I have put up a few more stories, and some will be more than one chapter ones! Gasp Please read and review this and them, I really would love some criticism and beta-ing. **

**I am off today! See you all in two weeks! Bye! Don't be a stranger! Ta-ta!**


	9. I was Only Nineteen

**You Just Keep on Drinking:**

Chapter Nine: I Was Only Nineteen

_Twelve green bottles, laying haphazard on the floor… Thirteen green bottles…_

A rose in bloom is enchanting. It has a beauty of it's own, a sharpness and wit about it. It is natural, and charming. A rose turns many heads and attracts all to it. People rave about its beauty and scent. A rose has physical beauty.

An oak tree is majestic. It is sturdy and dependable, it has firm roots and grows to such heights that it stands as protector and guardian. People speak highly of it's strength and endurance. An oak tree has inner beauty.

Yet isn't it funny that when put beside one another, people will always choose the rose. A rose withers and dies, it's beauty is only for it's own sake. An oak tree lasts for decades, and it's strength is for others.

True. But people still choose the rose.

_Fourteen green bottles…_

I don't like to drink. Drinking changes me, brings me forward, stops my control, breaks my mask. It manipulates me and taunts me: 'You're not like them. See how they laugh and smile? Look, look how you weep when under my influence.'

_I was only nineteen…_

But I suppose that weeping won't change anything now. It's the end. The end of humanity, the end of time, the end of me. I was never so foolish as to think that I was so very important, that I would last. I hold no enchantment, no passion, no sweet smell.

An oak is boring, and when the time of storm has pasted it is cut down.

_Fifteen green bottles…_

And so the time has come for my departure, my curtain has fallen and at last I am free to remove my mask and weep. And weep I do. Not in self-pity, all though I admit there are moments that I feel sorrow at the way things were, but I weep because I realise that none of it was necessary. My involvement in this war was not crucial, I play no major role. And so here I am, at my finish line, and I wonder when I first went wrong.

_It was a war within yourself…_

It was dark, cold. The inky night was lit up only by curses, like fireworks in the sky. Like disjointed pictures I could only see moments at a time: he dies, she dies, they win again. Like the petals of a rose I saw them fall, one by one.

I felt no pity, I felt no shame, I felt no regret.

But then I saw him fall. Just a boy, so small and insignificant. Alone and hurt, lost and bewildered. And I almost smiled, because he was so much like I had been, so innocent. And yet he had risen above it.

And suddenly every choice I made and every turn I had taken and every word I had spoken came rushing back to me with such clarity that I was brought to my knees. And I realised that it had all been my fault, all the hurt and anger and the pain had been my fault.

Oaks aren't roses. But it doesn't mean they are not loved.

And this boy, so young, was just like me, but he had chosen correct.

So I turn my wand, and pointed it at the man who had shaped what I had become.

_And a rat always knows when he's in with weasels…_

I'm not sure whether the boy survived. I do not know his name and I have no way to get a paper. I left straight after I betrayed my fellow brethren. I fled through the waterways and managed to get to another country. I doubt they'll ever find me.

I doubt they will need to try.

_Sixteen green bottles…_

If only I could have seen, if only I had known. It was foolish, we had been foolish. But we were foolish together, all for one. But it wasn't enough.

_Another wrong goodbye…_

And now, three days after the Last Battle, and I realise that this is the end for me. No longer do I need to hide my face or spend long nights listening to the sound of darkness, listening, watching. Instead I simply wait. Wait for death to come by and take me to where I must pay for every choice, every action, every deed. Because death will come, I know he will. For almost two decades death has always been chasing me, listening, watching.

It's time that I let him catch up.

_Seventeen green bottles…_

And so I lie on the grass and watch the moon pass through the sky, reminding me of them, and everything we did, and everything I did wrong. And the shadows of my captors are the only things that mar my view.

Funny how I'm the only one left.

_I was only nineteen…_

* * *

**A/N: Am back and with another chapter! The songs in this chapter are taken from "I was only nineteen" by John Schuman and "Little Drop of Poison" by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brannan. Harry Potter and co. belongs to J.K. Rowlings. **

**This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed: _Mrrisa, Short-stuff9, Earelwn, Just Kate, EveningShade, Mirficus, Misty's Dawn, ArionHalf-Blood, Zoebaby, Elladan and Elrohir, Jane Bristow, DevilishlyDreamy, Kay51 andDaunting Darkness._ Without your support I would never have written so many chapters and I would have spent many evenings bored! **

**After my last chapter (Think of Me) I got a few reviews from people asking who the protagonist was. It has been my aim to keep some of the character's identity hidden, although this is hard to do, and it was nice to know I managed it last chapter. I have no qualms telling you who the star has been in each chapter, but I don't want to write it up publicly incase some people enjoy not knowing. So, if you want to know, either email me (see my bio) or leave your email address with a review (I'm such scum!) and I'll send them off to you! **

**Anyway,please review and check out my other stories, including my new tale 'An Eldar's Influenza'. Thanks!**


End file.
